


Wicked games

by Egle_js



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Death Eaters, Draco Malfoy Being an Asshole, Draco Malfoy In Love, Falling In Love, Gay Sex, Idiots in Love, M/M, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 03:07:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Egle_js/pseuds/Egle_js
Summary: London, someone wanders in the middle of the night, hunting down dark creatures and leaving behind a string of corpses.During the investigation, Harry reunites with an old acquaintance, someone he hasn't seen in years: Draco Malfoy. The tension between them flares up, but Harry must protect his ancient rival from an invisible enemy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Wicked games

Harry Potter had gone through countless shitty situations in his life and to be perfectly honest he couldn't always remember how it happened. But not this time. This time he knew perfectly well why he was unarmed in a stone arena facing a mountain troll. And he knew it was entirely Hermione's fault.

She had asked him to drop by his office after his shift at Auror, a tiny two-bedroom apartment and bathroom located in a quiet part of magical London, where rents were low and the first available Starbucks was no more than a couple. of blocks. Harry was tired, nervous and he just wanted to go to the gym but he could never say no to Hermione.

So he showed up in her office, shirt unbuttoned and face full of weariness, and he found a giant sitting there. Perhaps it would be better to say a half giant since it had roughly the same proportions as Hagrid.

It turned out that the half-giant worked for certain people in the city, certain people who had no proper names but only a nickname by which they were known in the underworld and who had gone there to ask for help. "Someone is slaughtering the dark creatures," he said.

Harry had glanced at Hermione and she had nodded, she believed him and had already done all the necessary checks to make sure he wasn't a mythomaniac.

The half-giant had reported that two giants had been killed in the colony established in the far north of the Highlands within a few days. Gutted. The teeth pulled out.

"Isn't that one of the internal fights?" Harry had ventured, looking at the photographs Hermione had handed him.

The half-giant had been quick to deny.

“He wanders around at night… he's hunting for intestines and offal,” he whispered, his voice cavernous. Harry had grunted as he closed the file and asked why they hadn't called the Aurors.

"They did," Hermione replied. "But the Ministry has declassified deaths unrelated to the wizarding world." Which meant no wizard was involved, so it was just giants' business.

The Giants usually didn't want to have anything to do with the wizarding world, as they had been slaughtered for years by wizards, but soon after the war ended, they asked to be able to settle on British soil. The Ministry had given them permission as long as they adhered to the magical laws. Some parts of the agreements, however, were still nebulous.

Harry had run a hand over his jaw and asked what he expected them to do. Hermione was a civil rights lawyer, and he was an Auror. Without authorization from the Ministry ...

"I promised Groove we would go to the Highlands to investigate"

Yep, typical of Hermione. Harry should have known that. He sighed telling her that he could take a day off next to the weekend and that if it was important to her, they could go and have a look.

He still didn't understand how he could have been so stupid.

The Giants were less than happy to see them, especially in the company of a half-giant who lived in the service of wizards and was therefore regarded as a kind of pariah. They had told them that they would have to hand over the wands in order to talk to their boss. Harry had replied that they were there to do them a favor and that if they didn't want to cooperate, they would more than willingly return to London.

But it was _Hermione_ who had agreed to give the wand. It was _Hermione_ who said it was just their _customs_ , that they should be _friendly_. That's why he was now in the centre of an area, surrounded by walls at least four meters high and crowded by giants cheering on ... guess what ... not for him.

Harry bent slightly on his legs, lowering his centre of gravity. Eyes fixed on the mountain troll. He swerved to the side and the troll staggered forward, barking.

"Harry," Hermione chirped and Harry hated her with all his heart.

"Shut up, Hermione," he growled, dodging another attack. He had been trained to fight without being able to use his wand yet bumping into a ten-foot-tall troll with his bare hands was no joke. Harry mentally recapitulated his situation

_You are wandless_

_You'll get tired of him first._

_It must never, ever hit you._

Harry swiftly swung to the side, twisting his right leg and struck the troll's knee with surgical precision. The beast howled in pain as it collapsed onto its knee. Harry pivoted on the supporting foot and gave the troll another kick to the head.

Never hit him with your hands if you want to smash your bones.

He jumped back, loaded his right leg again and sank his heel into the beast's nose. A splash of blood spilled over the ground, but Harry didn't stand still to see the damage from his assault. He quickly ran towards the stone wall that bordered the arena and jumped with his toe on a small ledge.

_And don't stay long without a wand._

He gave himself a push and grabbed the top edge with the tips of his fingertips. He put his foot down again and pulled himself up. The Giants automatically stepped back to give him space, too surprised to remember that they weighed about two tons each and he was unarmed.

Harry put his fingers on the stone floor and closed his eyes. He felt the magic crackle, grow in sudden jets and then pour all around like a shock wave. The stones crumbled, rising at his touch. It was little more than a magician's trick, but it served to distract and frighten them just enough for Hermione to quickly get their wands back.

"Harry," she yelled, throwing him at him. Harry caught it, then pointed it all around.

Being the savior of the wizarding world and the one who had defeated Voldermort always helped in certain situations. It gave him that kind of aura of invincibility and danger that allowed him to surprise his opponents.

He cast a silent spell and the closest Giants were thrown backwards.

"So," he said with shortness of breath, "We were talking about the two murders ... can we examine the corpses?"

*

Harry dropped to one knee, looking into the pit. A handkerchief pressed to the nose so as not to smell. They had had to dig up the corpses, which had been placed, as was the custom of the Giants, in a hole in the middle of the forest. Harry wished he hadn't, but eventually he lowered himself into the pit. The smell of rot was even stronger. He tried to ignore it, touching the Giant's clothes with his fingertips.

Male, just over five meters tall. Very young, he could have been a teenager. Someone had smashed his skull and then had opened his chest, from throat to groin. All the internal organs had been removed. It was impossible for Harry to know if it had been done while the young Giant was still alive.

The only thing he was sure of was that it had been done with magic. He took some earth and rubbed his hands. Then he hoisted himself over the edge of the pit, brushing his clothes.

"Dark Arts,"

Hermione nodded. "Do you have any idea ..."

Harry just shook his head, "No," he replied. He was about to add more when he saw two figures dressed in black, blending into the elongated shadows of the trees. The faces hidden by a black mask without features. Harry gripped his wand, but the two disappeared.

***

"Who do you think they were?" Hermione asked, crouching in the chair and settling the blanket on her legs. The dark curls were trapped in a bun. They had rented a cottage for three days, although they could have returned to London within the day. Harry wanted to spend some time out of town.

"I don't know," he replied, adding a log of wood to the fireplace. He looked at the fire for a few moments, then rubbing his palms together.

“They were there while…” she added, then letting her voice die. “You were busy with the troll. I wasn't sure until I saw them in the woods "

Harry nodded affirmatively. He had seen them too. The Ministry was wrong: wizards and certainly the Dark Arts were involved.

"As soon as I get back to the office I will do a search on all the latest cases involving the Dark Arts ... if there have been suspicious deaths, arrests, kidnappings ... anything."

"Are you going to go talk to him?"

Harry shrugged. By him Hermione meant Kingsley, former head of the Aurors and now Minister of Magic. After the war ended, Harry and everyone in his year had been admitted to intensive courses to take their exams. Harry had passed the exams to enter the academy, but it was Kingsley who taught him to be an Auror, to act correctly ... not always behaving according to the moment and instinct. He had trained him for months, every night in the deserted gym.

_“You are not like everyone else, Potter. If someone could hurt you, it will. You have to be doubly prepared and doubly ready to act._

_If you get involved in a round-up, half of the spells will be directed at you._

_They will do anything to hurt you, to be able to leave a scar on Harry Potter's flesh like Voldemort. You understand it?"_

Harry understood it. But he also understood that training to the best of his ability and feeding the web of legends and false myths about him, his magic was the only way to discourage the most.

_"Do you think you can do it?"_

Harry had said yes, and Kingsley had resumed slaughtering him, alternating between magic and Muggle tactics. He had trained more than anyone else, he had studied more than anyone else. He didn't want anyone to let themselves think they could attack him or one of his friends.

After the class, Kingsley had become his contact person, his friend… for a while Harry wished he became something more, contravening the first unwritten rule: never fall in love with a straight man.

They had remained friends, and when Kingsley announced his candidacy first as director of the Aurors and then as Prime Minister, Harry had supported him. He didn't know if his support had any importance. Instinctively he would have said no, but he suspected that the truth was quite different.

Even after he became Prime Minister, Kingsley continued to be one of his points of reference. Harry came to him unofficially when he needed advice. Or simply when he needed a lot of heavy drinking.

"I don't know," he finally said.

“I will also activate my contacts. I helped a girl who couldn't find a job. Her boyfriend is in the Ukrainian mafia ... I'll check if she knows anything "

Harry just nodded, then lay down on the sofa. One arm folded behind the head. He took a sip of whiskey, feeling his muscles relax slowly. He glanced at his friend who was absently leafing through a book.

"Didn't you write to him?"

"To tell him what?"

Harry shrugged. "That it is nobody's fault ... that you love him ... I don't know"

Hermione exhaled loudly. “He already knows these things. Our story was not working, we had been dragging it for years. It just makes me angry that I was forced to abruptly end it when we could have been more honest "

Harry raised himself on one elbow, looking at her friend's profile. "Are you dating someone else?"

Hermione looked up abruptly, her lips parted in a surprised expression "No," she said, her voice was two octaves higher.

Harry shot her a look.

She pursed her lips in a thin line, closing the book. "No ... maybe ..." He shook his head, a couple of curls escaped from the bun and landed on her shoulder. "Nothing happened," she hastened to say.

"I prefer to keep a low profile for the moment"

"In other words, you don't want to tell me who he is"

Hermione gave him a stern look. "I don't want to tell you who he is because there is nothing to say"

Yet.

"Anyway, it has nothing to do with the breakup between me and Ron ... which by the way was centuries ago."

"Ten months are not centuries ago"

Hermione shrugged. "Are you still seeing that physiotherapist?"

"I never started seeing him," Harry said, settling back on the sofa. He finished the whiskey in one long gulp, waiting for Hermione to start the usual talk about the fact that he was just over thirty and had never been in a serious relationship.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything," she retorted, pretending to focus on the page. "Except that ..."

_Here she is._

"I thought you know, after these years in which ..."

"I fucked anything ..."

Hermione pursed her lips again. “You've had a lot of temporary relationships. I know. I drew up the confidentiality agreement and printed I don't know how many copies ... "

“We will never count them.

A relationship is too complicated,” he replied, leaning back against the pillows.

*

It was notoriously known that Harry Potter hated any mundane event, any event that involved a decent mass of people and an obligation to socialize.

Yet the Ministry continued to invite him to any occasion, insisting only when it was vitally important that he attend. And for them everything was vitally important.

Harry hunched his shoulders a little, taking a sip of whiskey. He generally kept on the fine line between being drunk and finding everything barely bearable, surrounded by his closest friends, who formed a kind of impenetrable barrier for strangers.

Since Ron and Hermione broke up and decided to talk to each other as little as possible, everything had become more complicated. They tried to take turns at his side, but Ron had decreed that it was time for him to grow up and that he should stop expecting them to be his bodyguards. Harry suspected it was just a way to get away and pick up.

He took a deep breath, sliding his gaze across the room. The Ministry had organized a gala in honor of the French and Spanish guests, invited to London for the signing of an international treaty on the rights of prisoners. Even after the war, Azkaban was still garrisoned by the Dementors.

Harry had taken sides openly to ward off the Dementors, but eventually the hard line prevailed and they stayed. The years and the fact that Voldermort had been permanently killed had somehow allowed Kingsley to become the promoter of the reform to ban The Dementors and also to include some European colleagues.

Harry glanced at his watch. "It's too early. Hold on until at least 11 p.m. " Hermione preceded him, slowly sipping champagne from the flute.

Harry grunted. He was about to tell her he needed to get some air when he saw him. The blond hair. The black tuxedo highlighted the large shoulders and slim hips. The long, tapered fingers. Eyes of ice. The elegant bearing.

Harry squeezed the strong glass. He forced his fingers to relax, unable to take his eyes off Draco Malfoy.

They hadn't seen each other for years ... the last time he saw him was at the trial, when Malfoy was sentenced to three years in prison. In Azkaban. Harry knew he had been released for good behavior before the end of his sentence, he had tried to keep track of his whereabouts but Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had left England soon after his release.

Lucius was still being held in Azkaban.

Harry saw him lower his head a little and say something to the Spanish ambassador, who threw her head back and burst out laughing.

"But it's…" Hermione whispered.

"It is," Harry replied, finishing his whiskey in one long gulp. He placed the glass on a nearby table and pointed directly at Malfoy. Hermione right behind him. "Harry, what are you going to do?" she asked in an alarmed voice.

"Nothing, say hello to an old friend," he replied, making his way through the crowd. He swore softly when someone stopped him to ask for a photo, an autograph, a piece of life. Harry tightened his jaw as Hermione apologized for him and helped him get rid of the annoyances. He looked around, seeing Malfoy's blond head go away. After a moment he disappeared behind a door.

"Get out the other side," he growled in Hermione's direction. She whimpered a little Harry, but he was already heading in the same direction Malfoy had disappeared. He ignored other people who wanted to talk to him and hurried up the steps.

Senses alert, muscles tense. He continued down a corridor, feeling a gust of cold air. He went out onto the second-floor terrace, completely deserted except for Malfoy. The refined tuxedo, the hair blown by the cold wind. The diaphanous skin.

Harry grimaced as their eyes met.

"You still haven't lost the habit of following me everywhere," said the former Slytherin, flickering the corner of his mouth in the ghost of a smile.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, clenching his fists hard at his sides. He advanced slowly and saw a shadow cross Malfoy's features. After a moment, the former Slytherin reached into his inside jacket pocket.

"Keep your hands where I can see them"

Malfoy laughed, a dry, bitter laugh. "Are you serious?" he said, raising both arms theatrically. Harry growled again, covering the distance that separated them. He opened his jacket and reached into his pocket, where he found only a pack of cigarettes.

"What did you think you would find?" hissed Malfoy against his cheek. Harry let go of the jacket fabric. He looked into his eyes, contracting his jaw hard.

"Probably a Basilisk"

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. "For that you have to check a little lower"

Harry blinked without immediately realizing the meaning of his words. Malfoy shook his head, taking a few steps away. “It was a joke, Potter. I forgot about your lack of humor "

He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, then turned his gaze to the lights of London. "I'm part of the Spanish delegation," he finally said, before looking back at him. "You would have known if you had read the guest list"

Harry closed and slowly relaxed his fist. "What are you doing here?"

Malfoy spread his arms. “I came here to destroy you, Potter. You and all your friends, ”he replied sarcastically. He brought the cigarette to his lips, narrowing his eyes and remaining silent for a few seconds.

“I have been living in Spain for some years. I have a business of trading herbs and legal magical substances from southern European countries to northern European countries. I am on good terms with the Spanish government ... a delegation had to come to England to talk about the treaty banning the Dementors ... they thought it was a good idea to involve me ... considering my direct experience ... "

"Why did you tell me?" Harry asked, studying his face. Malfoy was taller. He had large shoulders, but his whole figure was slim and elegant. His skin, although still pale, had lost the ghostly aspect that had always distinguished him. Perhaps for the first time in his life, the former Slytherin appeared to be healthy.

"Because you asked me, asshole," Malfoy replied, losing his calmness for a moment. Harry just arched the corner of his mouth. It was all a play… but the real Malfoy was still there.

"That's why I don't believe a single word," Harry replied, taking a few steps closer and stopping in front of him. He had to lift his chin a little to be able to look him in the eye. He had never trusted Malfoy, not in school… and certainly not now.

"Not my problem," Draco muttered.

"I'll find out what you are doing here ..."

"You're paranoid… and you've always been obsessed with me," Malfoy replied, then throwing his cigarette on the floor. He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue. "I thought you had been over ... after all these years ..."

Harry was about to answer when Pansy Parkinson stepped out onto the terrace. "Oops, did I interrupt something?" she asked, wrapping her arm around Malfoy's waist, stroking his chest, then bringing her gaze to Harry. She was wrapped in a long black dress that left her back uncovered. She was beautiful and dangerous… Harry felt his stomach twitch thinking about how much they both looked…. dangerous…

"Only Potter flirting with me," Draco replied, stroking her back and then placing his hand on her hip. Harry looked at the former Slytherin's hand on Parkinson's hip and felt a strange sensation. That gesture was not authentic, it was part of a pantomime.

After a moment, Hermione joined them on the terrace. "Harry, the Prime Minister is looking for you," the witch said, stopping by his side. Her voice was deliberately light. After a moment, she slid her fingers down his arm. Harry was sure she could feel the tension that filled him, yet she tried to appear peaceful.

"Malfoy, Parkison," the witch then said with a small nod. Pansy cocked her head to the side, studying her and hugging Draco tighter.

"Granger ... what a beautiful dress." replied the former Slytherin. An expression of disgust pursed her lips and Harry was horribly about to put a spell on her.

Harry took one last look in Malfoy's direction, before following Hermione. He didn't even look back when he heard Pansy articulate a nasty appreciation in their direction.

*

Harry clung to the sink, bowing his head forward. The hair dripped with water. He slowly released his breath, feeling the pain envelop him in prolonged excruciating pangs. He had gone to the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, hoping to find information. If someone was really killing the dark creatures, the most logical thing was to ask them directly or whoever lived near them.

Before he could intercept the centaurs, he had stumbled upon Gorge, Aragorg's great-grandson and current leader of the Acromantula, and the pack of spiders.

They too had had losses, confirming his suspicions. Harry would ask them questions, but the spiders had decided to discover the taste of the flesh of the savior of the wizarding world.

He raised his head slightly, looking at himself in the mirror.

with his fingernails, rinsing his face again.

And he still had to understand the condition of his back. He grabbed the fabric of the shirt and pulled, feeling the skin stiffen and then tear. Fuck, it was encrusted. It would have hurt ... a lot...

Harry gritted his teeth, ready to tug again, when the ringing of the bell stopped him. "Kreacher," he shouted on the second ring, before remembering that his house elf wasn't there. He turned off the tap water, dabbing his face with a towel. He threw it somewhere as soon as the doorbell rang again.

He cursed in a low voice, heading towards the entrance with bare feet.

"Potter, I know you're home," said a voice from the other side of the wood panel. Harry leaned his forehead against the door, holding his breath. He would go. He removed the protective spells and opened the door, leaning one forearm against the door frame so Malfoy knew he wasn't invited in anyway.

"You're having your elf follow me"

It wasn't a question.

"I was just wondering when you would become aware of it," Harry replied as Malfoy placed a hand on his chest and pushed him inside.

"I'm not suspected of anything and I'm pretty sure you don't have a Ministry clearance for ..." the former Slytherin continued before stopping suddenly. He looked at his face for a long moment in the light of the entrance before embracing his whole body with his eyes.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Harry sighed. “Brunch with a group of old friends… I just didn't realize I was the main dish. If you want now, excuse me… ”he replied, pointing to the door.

Draco pursed his lips in a thin line and Harry could read the indecision on his face. He closed the door, then ran his fingers through his messy hair. "Well ... we can talk about it while I finish patching up," he finally said, heading back to the bathroom. He didn't turn to see if Malfoy was following him. He grabbed the top edge of the shirt and pulled. He felt the wound reopen and send a wave of pain that took his breath away. He threw the shirt, now in tatters, on the floor, clinging to the sink again.

_Don't faint._

"Christ, Potter ... you have to go to St. Mungo ..."

"No hospital," Harry growled, keeping his eyes closed, feeling dizzy.

He remained hunched over the sink, hearing Malfoy approach. The shadow of a caress on his back. "We need to close the wound," Draco said and Harry wondered how long they hadn't been this close. They had played Quidditch together, they had fought over and over, they had even ridden the same broom, but there was something incredibly intimate about the way Malfoy was touching him at the moment.

He felt his palm adhere to his skin, his presence behind him. "I could kill you now," the former Slytherin whispered, running the tip of his wand along his spine.

“You are many things, but certainly not an assassin… much less an unarmed man. So close that damn wound and then go away "

He narrowed his eyes as Malfoy whispered a spell. Harry groaned slightly as the skin on his back grew pleasantly cool, the fire faded, as if immersed in a stream of cold water. He stood still when Malfoy opened the medicine cabinet.

"This may be fine," he said, taking a medicine. He unscrewed the cap and dipped his fingers into it. Malfoy applied the ointment to his battered back with an unexpectedly delicate touch. With a silent spell, he pulled a chair up from the kitchen and with a slight pressure on his shoulder, he pushed Harry to sit down.

His fingers were doing something magical to his back. His fingertips ran along the lines of his muscles, untying knots of pain and relaxing every inch of his skin. "You don't have to ..." Harry whispered, tilting his head back a little.

"Enjoy it, Potter ..." Malfoy muttered, intensifying the pressure of his fingers on his back. After a moment, he made his palms adhere completely and slowly made them slide upwards. Harry barely opened his legs, feeling his penis begin to harden. It must have been too long since his last fuck if he got aroused by Malfoy massaging his back.

"How did you do it?" whispered the former Slytherin, touching one of the scars on his shoulder blade.

“In war. Some later, ”Harry replied, raising his eyelids. He looked into Malfoy's gray eyes as he felt his erection press against the fabric of his jeans. Harry took his wrist with his fingers, making him move so that he was beside him.

And for a very long moment Harry thought he was going to get up and kiss him. And Malfoy would let him.

Harry inhaled, the sound of his own breathing filling his ears as the hairs on his arms stood up, a shiver down his neck. It lasted all the time of a breath ... and Harry found himself doing three things at once: with one hand he took his wand out of Malfoy's pocket, with the heel he pushed back and with the fingers of the other hand he imprisoned the fabric of the coat of Malfoy, pulling him towards him.

The sound of his breath as he exhaled… and then time went by faster than normal. Harry dipped his fingers into Malfoy's hair, protecting his head with one hand as a ball of fire exploded above them. Harry hit the floor with his back, his whole apartment shaking under the explosions. He muttered a second protective spell as the ceiling collapsed over them in a cloud of dust and rubble.

"Let's apparate," Draco said next to his ear.

"We can't," Harry said in a calm voice. He squeezed his arm as a second ball of fire exploded above them. Their legs intertwined.

"Stay down, Malfoy," he muttered, calling his Patronus. He silently ordered him to warn Ron and Hermione. Eyes fixed on the entrance door.

_Whoever it is, is about to enter._

He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, quickly thinking of an alternative. With a spell he recalled his wand, which landed directly in Malfoy's hand, while he continued to protect both of them using that of the former Slytherin.

"Blow up the wall on my right," he said, without taking his eyes off the front door, which trembled under the blows of an invisible force. "And get ready," he added. He muttered another defensive spell as a third sphere appeared out of nowhere. He blinked a few times, a cloud of dust hit him as Malfoy collapsed the wall. His ears kept ringing.

He took his hand off Malfoy's head and held out his arm. "Now," he said as his fingers closed on the Nimbus. Malfoy grabbed one hand too, casting a spell in the direction of the door.

Harry growled as he felt his back scrape the floor. The broom picked up speed and headed for one of the windows.

Harry cast another spell, the flames bursting high, burning and destroying. Malfoy made the glass disappear and the Nimbus dragged them out. Harry tightened his grip on his wand, watching the night sky be studded with black figures. Black cloaks, faceless.

"Are they Death Eaters?" Malfoy whispered.

"I don't know," he replied, feeling vulnerable so hanging on the broom.

Harry saw one of the figures move, the cloak floating in the air ... "Get out of here," he whispered in Malfoy's direction without looking at him. He released his grip on the Nimbus and dropped into space. He struggled with one hand as he passed through one of the hooded figures.

_They are empty ... they are just enchanted cloaks_ he thought before touching the ground. He rolled onto his back to cushion the impact and then got back on his feet. He turned to the house, feeling a shift in the air. A ball of fire was about to hit him but was deflected by a spell. A second came out of nowhere as Malfoy reached out to him and yanked him onto the Nimbus. Harry put his arm around his waist, a spell brushing his cheek.

The fireball exploded and the flames in his apartment lost their intensity under the influence of other spells. He turned to look at Ron and Hermione, both on their brooms.

"Are you OK?" Hermione asked him.

Harry nodded as Ron walked over to the other side to protect him from both sides.

Other Aurors appeared in the sky. Harry pursed his lips slightly. "I need to think."

"Go to my apartment ... we'll stay here," Hermione told him, losing altitude. Harry gave her a nod of thanks, shivering in the cold. Addicted to adrenaline, he hadn't even noticed that he had gone out shirtless and barefoot. He tightened his grip on Malfoy's hips and disappeared.

They reappeared shortly thereafter in a Muggle neighborhood that bordered the suburb of magical London. “Red brick building, fourth floor. The corner window "

Malfoy maneuvered the broom with light touches. Harry had always envied his way of flying, so elegant and graceful. Very different from his, it was all instinct and rough maneuvering. He lowered his head a little as they entered Hermione's apartment. Crookshanks looked at them with his yellow eyes and then fled.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, briefly checking if he was injured. He let out a small sigh as he felt a sensation of warmth envelop him. "Thanks," he muttered to Malfoy who had warmed him with a spell. "I'll be right back" he added, heading towards the entrance closet. He took a sweater, some socks and a pair of shoes that he kept there in case of need and quickly put them on.

Then he went back to Hermione's book-strewn living room. He watched Malfoy hand him his wand and for a second Harry wondered if his hair was as silky as it looked.

Mentally he called himself an idiot.

Harry took his wand and slipped it into his pocket, before grabbing Malfoy's again. He turned it over between his fingers and then weighed it, bending his wrist a little downwards. It was the wand he had used to kill Voldermort. He had kept it, without using it, until Malfoy was released from prison. Then he had it delivered to him without a ticket.

"It's a nice wand" he said lost in his thoughts. "I loved using it"

Malfoy pursed his lips in a smile, his eyes flooded with a mischievous light. "Did you love using my wand, Potter?"

Harry was serious for a moment before looking away. He smiled in spite of himself. He didn't want Malfoy to think he was smiling at something he said.

"I guess it shouldn't have come out so badly."

Draco stared at him and Harry had the absurd thought again that if he just tried to kiss him, he would let him. "Thank you for returning it to me," he murmured in response. Harry gave a small nod before breaking eye contact and heading for the kitchen.

“I make some coffee. In the meantime, call whoever accompanied you ... Parkinson, your mother ... tell them to come here "

Malfoy stopped in the kitchen doorway, Harry could feel his gaze on his back. "Why?"

“They are not safe. Whoever attacked us was angry with you, not with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading this first chapter. If you like, leave me a comment :-)


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